Don't Scream At The Top Of Your Lungs, I Had Champagne Last Night: High Society (1956)

There are films who existence is rather stunning due to their shoestring operations that would assumedly prevent them from making moving and engaging cinema, yet, nonetheless, result in a poised poetics that only rare happens even in the bigger budgeted films.  In sharp contrast there are the high profile films that simply take on too many stars to seem worthwhile or consistent.  High Society, a rather well-received musical from 1956, while not a thing of perfection does manage to succeed at incorporating varied stars from the time, without becoming solely a spectacle.  In fact, it is very much of of the film's benefits that the stars coalesce beautifully, all playing characters while also appropriating their celebrity within the process, excluding, of course, Louis Armstrong who plays himself.  High Society is perhaps the most obvious of all titles when it comes to musicals, other examples only pulling an item or thought into a larger narrative, whereas this film is wholly concerned with a specific class-based group and what occurs when this space is invaded by both welcome and unwelcome guests.  I am not an expert on the wide world of film musicals and certainly not so on the traditionally staged versions (hopefully I can be by the end of the month), however, I would be inclined to describe something like High Society as existing within a space where narrative emerges and the music is secondary, almost entirely a product of the stars on display.  High Society, as such, has more in line with a film like Gentleman Prefer Blondes than say Top Hat, although it is no less engaging with the music used.  The playing off of tones between Crosby and Sinatra is something rare and pure, not to mention the inclusion of Armstrong's fiery trumpet.  Of course, the aid of Cole Porter lyrics never hurt.  I say all this because it is not going to prove to be one of my favorite musicals of the month by quite a long shot, but it does prove to be one of the more consistent in terms of structure, musical flow and performances proving to be one of the more profound musicals from a formalist frame of reference.

High Society centers on the impending wedding of Tracy Lord (Grace Kelly), a socialite whose standing was previously faltered by her previous marriage to songwriter and debonair gentleman C.K. Dexter-Haven (Bing Crosby).  As part of a way to remind Tracy of his frustrations, Dexter plans and implements a jazz festival to happen on his property, which also happens to be no more than a hundred years away from Tracy's home.  All the while, Tracy's fiancé George Kittridge (John Lund) plays the fool assuming their relations to be a thing of the past, an ignorance that is emphasized by his class detachment between Tracy and Dexter.  Even with this bit of absurdity, Tracy's wedding is proving to be far more perplexing as the editor for Spy magazine purports to be in possession of a story that verifies that the Lord patriarch Seth (Sidney Blackmer) has been engaging in an extra-marital affair.  Tracy's mother hoping to save face agrees to allow two reporters from the magazine to provide a full report, with pictures, on the wedding.  The reports in question being Mike Connor (Frank Sinatra) and a photographer named Liz Imbrie (Celeste Holm) arrive wholly dismissive of the entire endeavor thinking it frivolous and illogical, completely unaware of the blackmail issue at hand.  This wild cocktail of animosity and miscommunication plays out as Dexter attempts to win back Tracy who he still adores, while also becoming accidental friends with Mike seeming to connect upon their love of champagne and dismissal of performing for the sake of social graces.  Upon discovering Tracy's own animosity towards the idea of privilege, Mike takes a liking to her traveling about and getting close to becoming intimate with her, but, ultimately, avoiding to do so for the sake of the upcoming wedding and because he knows such an action would be immoral, especially since Tracy is very drunk during the encounter.  While George is at first frustrated he attempts to be forgiving towards Tracy for her actions, yet the more free-willed Tracy decides their marriage is probably a terrible decision and she precedes to call things off, however, it does not mean that a wedding does not occur by the closing moments of the film.

High Society is probably one of the more formulaic and seemingly obvious films that I have included in my marathon and from an initial glance it seems to be just that a singular style of cinema that aims to tell a story with music in the most linear way possible.  It does just this without a doubt, but it also manages to repeatedly call attention to the celebrity of the characters on display.  This is most obvious in the fact that Louis Armstrong is ostensibly playing himself throughout the entirety of the film, providing a musical introduction that is wonderful and in sharp distinction to his work in On Her Majesty's Secret Service.  Yet, Louis Armstrong is assumed to be a point of star power who identities as such, while viewers are asked to understand Crosby, Sinatra and even Kelly to exist within the diegetic space.  Thus, it becomes a film, like so many of the musicals discussed thus far, that navigates enigmatically between the reality and the fabrication afforded a narrative in cinema.  I know this is essentially the case for most films, but this film makes note of the difference between Bing Crosby as Dexter and Louis Armstrong as Louis Armstrong.  I would posit then that the film is an early example of post-modernism, even if unknowingly so, as the narrative is constantly reminding those watching that he is existing within the film, but what makes the argument more plausible is the musical encounter between Crosby and Sinatra where Sinatra calls out Crosby's Dexter for his inclination towards crooning, although it is intended to take a stab at his character's age, the counter by Crosby suggesting that Sinatra's Mike must be one of the new guys speaks to the shift in music that was very much occurring, sliding away from the crooning of Crosby to the more swing enduring language of Sinatra.  All the while, Grace Kelly is doing her own shades of performance, clearly tapping into stardom and style of then starlet Audrey Hepburn, ironically reappropriating it here for a character whose extreme innocence is also nearly her downfall.  I would posit that this is far more than an acting choice on the part of Kelly and indeed plays into the larger possibilities of post-modernism emerging in one of its earliest moments.

Key Scene:  The "Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?" performances with Sinatra and Holm with all its auditory twisting is highly enjoyable and is also in line with the film being super early post-modernism.  Also Grace Kelly in this film!

This is a curious little film, one that is also extremely watchable.  I would suggest renting it first though as it is not necessarily a film demanding repeated visits.

People Gotta Talk Themselves Into Law And Order: High Noon (1952)

High Noon was a film that stood high on my shame list for having not seen, particularly considering that it was perhaps the most often recommended western, when I did my initial search and planning for viewings, not to mention being one of the highest ranking westerns on the greatest films of all time lists, usually breaking into top fifty in many cases.  In fact, at #27 it is the highest ranking western on the AFI Top 100 movies list, which is a respectable feat, considering the other worthy films it is beating out for the honor.  I knew that I would enjoy this film some combination of Grace Kelly, Gary Cooper and Fred Zimmerman assured that this would be a great film and when I received my bluray from Netflix in the mail I was admittedly baffled by its relatively short runtime of eighty odd minutes a initial hesitation that was contradicted when I realized that this particular western is filmed in near real time, each even building within the course of a few hours and edited in such a way as to allow for the paranoia and nervousness of an impending shootout to tick away like the pendulums of the clocks that occupy the film continually.  In fact, if I am to concede to The Furies being the best shot film in the entire month, then it goes without saying that High Noon will prove to be the most well-edited, between repeated shots to empty train tracks awaiting the arrival of the film's antagonist and the continual use of close-ups that quickly jump to empty chairs and desolate town streets drive the feeling of this film to another level, only aided by a maddening soundtrack.  If all of the magnificent elements of the film's composition were not enough, High Noon proves to be one of the greater realizations of Cold War cinema, with perfect metaphors to the McCarthy Hearings, as well as a set of characters who possess a deep rooted fear of an impending crisis, one that causes them to be incredibly self-invovled and indifferent to law and justice in the face of their own survival.  High Noon, again, does all of these things perfectly and in such a concise manner that it is hard not to completely adore this work, each shot being a vision of filmmaking whether casting an aura of over the ethereal Grace Kelley or feverishly capturing the piercing eyes of a very young Lee Van Cleef.

High Noon begins with a marriage between the aging Will Kane (Gary Cooper) and his younger Quaker wife  Amy Fowler (Grace Kelly).  Their marriage is a point of happiness and joy for the town, who are proud to see their martial who has served them with great zeal and dedication discovering his own happiness, even if it is with a woman of a somewhat unusual religion.  Yet, given the minutia of law rulings, Will's next marshall appointment will occur the following day, technically, leaving a gap of a day in which no law figure will be present within their New Mexican town.  Normally, the event would be irrelevant since the town is stable and well-behaved, but the announcement that a man Will convicted named Frank Miller (Ian MacDonald) has been pardoned and is returning to the town to exact his revenge changes his outlook and his initial promise to Amy to put down his badge immediately after their marriage.  Will initially leaves hoping that the town will be fine when Frank arrives and cannot find his nemesis, although, Will's paranoia and concern for reprimanding those who have done wrong leads to his belief that returning to the town is inevitable, despite Amy's many requests that he just put his past forever behind him and begin their life together.  When they return, it is discovered that Frank will arrive just before noon and with that news Amy tells Will that she will be leaving on the noon train herself, his decision to join is entirely his own.  Frank, who attempts to recruit the help of his former townsfolk to no success, knows that his standing up to Frank is of a higher purpose than anything else and will set in course, in Will's grand vision, the entire state of law in the nation for decades to come.  At first, Amy accepts his decision and leaves knowing that she can never pull the lawman from his past, yet when it is revealed that the entire town has bailed on Will, fearing for their lives, she returns as a form of emotional support, and eventually goes against her staunch religious beliefs to save her husband by firing a gun at one of Frank's posse.  Will wins out in the end, but not without some physical injuries, ultimately, throwing down his badge in disgust, understanding that he has sacrificed himself far too long for an ungrateful town.

I know that the closing moments of this film would suggest something against the sort of out and out idealism of jingoistic nationhood that would influence cold war era cinema, particularly in the fifties and sixties, where a constant fear of nuclear fallout or a "red" invasion factored into every action, leading to government breeches of privacy and culture as they deemed fit to correct any message that might remotely suggest a support for communism.  Of course, the unusual nature of High Noon is that it digs down to ask who is really sacrificing their lives and images in a war that is ostensibly non-combative.  While most American's during the era spouted their disdain for Russia and a support for democracy, and, subsequently, capitalism, few were willing to standup and take action, only yelling and judging those around them, hoping to catch them in any at that could be deemed un-American.  Extend this to what is perhaps America's most notorious case of censorship and othering in the McCarthy hearings and one can consider the value of law and justice, when it is used in a divisive and problematic way.  The overly zealous and profusely misguided Joseph McCarthy took it upon himself to clean house on Hollywood and the arts in general, picking off any individual who even remotely envisioned something that was not wholly democratic.  This did not fair well for Jewish-American's working in motion pictures, nor anyone who was from Europe.  Fred Zimmerman, who was born in Vienna clearly had a frustrating experience with this ordeal and felt the willingness of his colleagues to betray others in the name of their own safety to be a complete destruction of all notions of justice and honesty, and High Noon, particularly, the character of Will exist to celebrate those who were willing to sacrifice their careers and personal advancement to call attention to the stupidity and absurdity involved in the entire set of McCarthy hearings.  Beyond this, the film deals with the manner in which a paranoia of "invasion" led many to betray ideals of justice.  The threat of Frank and his gang is somewhat inconceivable, much like the Russian invasion, therefore, the visions of destruction were blown out of proportion causing each family to wall itself off from its neighbors and entrench themselves in the belief that anybody going against the status quo to be trouble.  The townsfolk see Will as trouble and, ultimately, betray him for their foolish attempts at safety.  High Noon paints a picture of the Cold War ideology, arguably without realizing it, and uses the western to do so, much like Casablanca it is a film whose traditional execution manages to transcend its cinematic space and speak to a zeitgeist, even if one that is not fond to reflect upon, which perhaps helps to explain its seminal place in the history of American cinema.

Key Scene:  Each cut to the empty train tracks is so heightened that when the train finally emerges in the shot it has a power almost equal to that of the Lumiere Brothers first use of a locomotive to challenge moviegoers assumptions about the possibilities of film.

Buy this now...on bluray of course.

But She Isn't Going To Say Anything, Is She?: Dial M For Murder (1954)

I am beginning to think, after watching so many Alfred Hitchcock films that the man had to have murdered a few people in his illustrious life.  As is the case with Dial M For Murder, as well as so many of the autuer's other works, the execution of the perfect crime seems to be a topic of great concern for Hitchcock, and while this work in particular is based on a play, it, nonetheless, finds itself filled with various influences from the master of suspense.  Furthermore, I am fully aware that this particular Hitchcock film is not exactly the most entrenched within the horror genre, but I feel quite strongly that this landmark in cinema still packs in enough suspense to deserve mention this month on the blog, not to mention it is one of the Hitchcock films that I had not seen prior and I am always ready to move through more of his oeuvre.  A film that is based on a play is nothing new, but in Hitchcock's hands, the performance and setting aspects of the film become heightened considerably, he, as a director, is keen to pay homage to the play by setting the opening shots in a frozen manner, suggesting the opening of a scene right after the curtain has raised.  Furthermore, in a manner that has become Hitchcockian in its execution, the film manages to take actions and items within the plot and drastically change their meaning and representation to the audience once the plot thickens a bit, and as many a film scholar know, one cannot watch a Hitchcock film with out considering the deluge of various Freudian implications latent to any of his works.  Essentially when viewing a work by Alfred Hitchcock you can be assured that plot, acting and miss-en-scene will come together in a masterful way and provide a film that magnetically pulls you towards whatever screen you are watching the work and Dial M For Murder is certainly no exception to this idea.

Dial M for Murder's central figure is Tony Wendice (Ray Milland) a former tennis player who has retired from the game and is living rather comfortably of the wealth of his wife Margot (Grace Kelly) and appears content to do so, if it were not for his knowledge of an intimate affair Margot is engaged in with a former American beau named Mark Halliday (Robert Cummings).  Playing oblivious to the involvement between the two lovers, Tony plans an elaborate ploy to get both himself and Mark away from Margot, ultimately, intending to murder his wife.  However, realizing that his motives would be rather clear Tony calls upon a former college mate named Charles Swann (Anthony Dawson), in trouble with authorities for identity fraud and various forms of theft, all aimed at paying up his serious gambling debts.  Tony explains in great detail how he has planned the perfect crime for Charles to commit and that if he is willing to undertake the task he will be handsomely rewarded.  At first hesitant to do so, Charles attempts to counter Tony by threatening to turn him into the police, yet as Tony points out through various actions Charles has undertaken just by walking in the door, it would be in his better interest just to go through with the murder, because he as already set him up for trouble if he refuses.  Begrudgingly agreeing to the task, Charles goes through with the murder, however, in a moment of hesitance Margot reacts to the attack by Charles causing him to fall fatally on a pair of scissors, resulting in his death, as opposed to Margot's.  Frantic, Tony returns home to attempt to cover up his involvement in the entire course of events, suffice to say no matter how much practical planning Tony can go through certain things cannot be foreseen, such as the logical capabilities of those involved with the case, as well as occurrences within nature that lend to the emergence of one or another form of evidence.  In the end a perfect crime is impossible within the narrative of Dial M for Murder, because at some point a fact will not match up with the lie that is ultimately being told.

I mentioned the Freudian implications latent within Dial M for Murder and as I have attested multiple times on this blog I am by no means versed in my psychoanalytic theory, however, watching Dial M for Murder has made me want to uncover some of the film theory surrounding Hitchcock specifically, meaning of course that I will attempt to crack into some heavy Zizek in the upcoming months.  However, at the moment I can make a few observations of Freudian influence within the film, firstly, the notion of impotence manifests itself quite blatantly in this film, at the onset Tony is a man who is scorned by his lover, causing him to feel a strong degree of impotence, Hitchcock brilliantly provides the character with a cane as a visual metaphor for his lack of sexual drive.  However, notice the disappearance of this cane upon Tony's believe that he has succeeded in killing his wife, all be it a bit backhandedly.  The impotence, at least metaphorically disappears and he is able to exert his masculine zeal again.  One could also read Tony has being a character with a degree of homosexual desire, whether it be his unusual attachment to Charles or the way in which he robotically deals with Margot by way of affection.  Even Charles, who is relatively minimal to the plot has his moment of phallic pride when he is shown in a picture with Tony, smoking the "biggest cigar in the room," a clear reference to penis size and envy surrounding such rhetoric.  In this picture, Hitchcock never one to shy away from metaphor, the cigar referenced is truly something to be seen.  Finally, much could be said about a certain affixation with one's facial hair in the films closing scenes, but that is an entirely new critical approach all its own.

Key Scene:  Margot's trial scene is rather surreal and minimalist, but probably the most intense moment of the film.

Dial M for Murder is a classic, I would suggest purchasing the film, but if you are anything like me you probably want to get the huge bluray boxset that has just been released, so waiting is certainly justified.